Side by side
by HelveticaBrown
Summary: It wasn't supposed to be this way, but here they are lying side by side in a bed that's too small. Written for Swan Queen Week Summer 2015: Day 1, bed sharing. Previously published on AO3


Emma shifted in the chair for what must have been the twentieth time in the last hour, trying to find a comfortable position. Even if the chair had been less uncomfortable though, Emma wasn't sure that she would have managed to sleep. She glanced over at the bed and found her gaze unexpectedly returned.

Regina's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Can't sleep?"

"No."

"Me neither." She was silent for a moment. "You must be uncomfortable in that chair."

"It's fine." It wasn't, but right now, that really didn't matter.

"It's not. There's enough room for both of us. Come lie down."

"Really, it's okay. I've slept in worse places." She almost wanted Regina to make a snide remark – _I'm sure you have Ms Swan, with your intimate knowledge of America's penal system_ – something that would make her feel normal, like balance had been restored. But it hadn't; everything was off-kilter.

"Please."

Emma was unaccustomed to the plaintive note in Regina's voice and found herself powerless to deny her. She sighed as she unfolded herself from the chair, and climbed onto the narrow cot, next to Regina. It was hardly better than the chair; the mattress was thin and hard, and Emma was pretty sure she'd slept on concrete slabs that were more comfortable. Some of them had even been in prison. She carefully arranged herself in the bed, leaving as much space as was possible between herself and Regina, and tried yet again not to think about the reason they were in this room, sharing a bed.

There was a cruel irony in this whole situation. They'd survived wraiths, sleeping curses and a whole host of other unbelievable threats, but they were helpless in the face of a stupid accident. She and Regina were called to the hospital, arriving within moments of each other, to find their precious boy in an induced coma. Emma had screamed at Regina to do _something_ , to fix this and Regina had just looked at her and shook her head. Emma wondered what use their magic was if they could veil the moon, but couldn't stem the flow of blood from a tiny, inconsequential vessel in their son's brain. What use was it if all they could do was wait and watch and hope and trust modern medicine?

They lay there side-by-side, not quite touching, silent, but not asleep. Listening to the rhythmic beep of machines, Emma wondered if she would ever sleep again, or if her son would… No, she wouldn't, couldn't think that, couldn't give life to that thought.

"What if he doesn't wake up?"

Emma turned onto her side to face Regina. She felt like she was being slowly torn apart, a blunt knife tearing through her flesh and her soul, and Regina's words twisted and tore, deeper, more painful, taking her closer to a place she wasn't sure she could return from. She swallowed back the scream welling in her throat, a mix of fury and terror, and forced herself to keep her tone even. Regina wasn't the reason for this. No one was.

"We can't think like that. His heart has always been big enough to believe in us, no matter what. We owe it to him to do the same." Her voice was calmer, steadier than she'd thought possible.

Regina was silent for a while, apparently weighing up Emma's words. When she finally responded, it was with a bittersweet smile on her face. "You're right. Thank you for reminding me of that."

They lay there facing each other, sharing a pillow that was damp where both their tears had run together. She brushed a hand gently down Regina's cheek, smoothing away some of the tears that were falling.

"Emma… I'm glad you're here with me."

"Me too. I don't think I could do this alone."

The brush of Regina's lips against her own was light, tentative and hardly more than chaste. But it warmed Emma in a way that she didn't know she needed and it was a balm against the rending pain in her soul, making it seem slightly more bearable for a moment.

Regina pulled back and her eyes were searching, the twin lines between her eyebrows a clue to her inner turmoil. It would be easy to write off that kiss as the product of an emotionally-charged moment, a small act of comfort between friends. It would be so easy. But Emma had learned that easy wasn't always best, and even though things between them would always be hard work, it was worth it, because together they were stronger.

It was strange. They'd been in a room like this before, desperately wishing that their son would wake up, but they'd been enemies then. And with all that had happened, all of the history between them, it didn't make sense that she should find it so easy to forgive Regina. But somehow, paradoxically, this strange little family unit that they'd built was just about the only thing that made sense in her life. And right now, Emma was praying to every deity she could think of in the hope of keeping it together.

Regina was still looking at her uncertainly, and Emma smiled softly and gently cupped her cheek, before bridging the gap between them again. There was nothing particularly erotic about this kiss either, but it was an affirmation, a declaration of intent. She felt Regina sigh against her lips and there was the tang of salt on her tongue that could have been from her own or Regina's tears. And even with all of the wrongness of today, at least this little moment felt right, a tiny sanctuary in the midst of a world that had gone mad.

"We'll get through this together." Emma stroked Regina's hair, and pressed her lips to her forehead. "You should try to get some sleep. We'll be no use to Henry if we're completely exhausted."

"I don't know if I can." But she rolled over to face away from Emma and shifted until she was pressed back against Emma, lacing their fingers together and guiding Emma's arm until it was snug around her.

"He'll be okay." Emma wasn't sure if she was saying it to Regina, or to herself. But maybe, just maybe, if she said it often enough, it might come true.


End file.
